iSPORTstore.com - Jonah Barrington - Mr. Squash By Paul McElhinney Jonah Barrington - Mr. Squash By Paul McElhinney Jonah Barrington - Mr. Squash By Paul McElhinney In the late 1960’s and 1970’s, he was known as Mr. Squash. He had helped drag a sport which had mainly been the preserve of the English public school elite and the British Empire, firmly into the post-colonial era. With his emphasis on fitness training and on the importance of winning, he managed to transform a sport of the leisured classes into a rigorous modern one. His dynamic, determined personality helped in driving this transformation – to have attended one of his clinics was to have witnessed a master class in the psychology and tactics of the sport. Not only was he a master of the theory of the game, but he managed to reach the position of No.1 in the world game, vying on and off during the 1960’s and 1970’s with the great Australian, Geoff Hunt for the top position.

I had the great honour of meeting Jonah during a tour he made to Zambia and Rhodesia in the late 1960’s. At that stage, he was at the height of his career. He travelled with a useful English player, Mike Corby who played exhibition matches against Barrington and against the local talent. Our family were living in Zambia at the time when he arrived up at the Lusaka Club to play a series of exhibitions. I recall his match against local hero, Storr Hunter, a Rhodesian émigré living in Lusaka. Hunter took quite a pummelling but managed to disport himself well against the best in the world at the time. I managed to see the match throughout but my father, who was a former Irish international, had to leave early on account of my younger brother not feeling well. I remember very well the clinic he gave after his match. He had a sort of mesmeric, wizard like quality as he regaled the crowd with anecdotes and advice. Dark and brooding with a strong, fixed stare; he had a charisma that held the crowd in the palm of his hand. He also recounted the encounter he had some years previously with the great Pakistani player, Nasrullah Khan.

Short and pot-bellied, Khan appeared a walkover to a young fit Barrington until Khan started to serve. Khan was able to lob his serve so that it hugged the wall throughout its trajectory down the court. Each time Barrington came out to return it, he crashed his racket against the wall. Khan won the first game 9-0 purely on his serve! Barrington also asked the great master for his advice on ways to cure a problem he had in regularly hitting the lower tin. Khan’s advice was: ‘Hit ball higher’. For about an hour, we were treated to a display of wit and wisdom from Barrington. He took his game seriously and was imparting his insights to an audience eager to know what the secret of his success was. After the match, my brother Karl and I managed to get into his changing room – how we did, I’m not quite sure. We were just on our way to Ireland to attend a prep school in Co. Wicklow, we told him. It emerged that he had also gone to a school in Avoca – an immediate connection.

It was quite a thrill to meet the best squash player in the world as a boy of 11 years and for him to have been so open and friendly. This was an encounter we dined out on for many years after! Jonah had an interesting pedigree. He came from an old Anglo-Irish family with significant landed interests. One of his ancestors, Sir Jonah Barrington, established an estate in County Limerick, ‘Glenstal’ which was eventually sold in the 1930’s to a group of Belgian Benedictine monks. These monks established a boarding school which I attended in the 1970’s – another interesting connection. Jonah’s aforementioned ancestor was also responsible for introducing rugby to Limerick (not long after William Webb Ellis picked up the ball and ran at Rugby School). He organised teams of working men and farm labourers from his estate to play the game and established a tradition in Limerick of rugby among working class communities. Teams like ‘Young Munster’ carry on this working class tradition even to this day. In this respect, the city stands out in Ireland where the sport has very much been a middle class sport.

His Limerick ancestors were steeped in folklore, much of which we heard when we attended Glenstal. During Ireland’s War of Independence, the then Lord Barrington’s daughter was ‘stepping out’ with a British army officer billeted in the area. On her way back from a day out, they were driving up the avenue of the estate in an open-top vehicle when an IRA sniper took a potshot from the nearby woods aimed at the officer. Instead, the shot hit the young lady and she died instantaneously. It was said that after her death, her ghost haunted the castle where the schoolboy’s dormitories were situated. The matron swore that she had witnessed the ghost on a number of occasions and it was one of the first stories I heard when I joined the school. It all added to the glamour and mystery of the place. What an intriguing family! Jonah spent some time as a pupil at Headfort School in Co. Louth which I believe, was the only prep school in Ireland that had its own squash court. Clearly, he was able to hone his skills from an early age, the key to excellence in any sport.

From Headfort, he went on to Cheltenham College, a public school with an imperial and military tradition together with good facilities for squash. After Cheltenham, he entered Trinity College, Dublin. Dublin and Trinity in those days were very relaxed and by all accounts, Jonah had a fairly relaxed passage through Trinity. At that time, Jonah was a very average journeyman player playing at one of the lower slots on the first team. He also had a very active social life which probably interfered with achieving his best at squash. It would have been hard at that time to see Jonah becoming the outstanding squash star of later years. Accounts differ, but it seems Jonah reached some form of conversion after he left college. He started to get fit and develop his skills, mental and physical, at squash. By the mid 1960’s, he was ascending the world ladder and by the end of the decade, he was vying with Geoff Hunt for the top position in world squash. He was bringing squash to a whole new audience, communicating its skills and attractions in a compelling and stimulating way. No longer was squash simply a leisurely upper middle class sport, but now a modern, dynamic and more democratic one.

The next time I met Barrington was at a Squash Ireland event organised in Clontarf in 1975 when I was a first year student at Trinity. Being the pushy teenager that I was, I approached him after his game and reminded him of our meeting in Zambia many years earlier. His memory was not as good as mine, but that is not surprising. I recall that the event was being covered by the media as the sport was gaining in popularity at the time, not least due to the efforts of Barrington. Frank Delaney was covering the event for RTE, I think, and standing on the other side of Jonah from me, referred rather witheringly to my youthful intervention. It taught me a lesson in Irish culture: the dangers of being the tall poppy. How that attitude has held Ireland back in so many ways for so many years! By contrast, Barrington represented an Irishman who became the best he could be through hard work and determination. I know which approach I prefer. During my Trinity years, Barrington’s memory among the squash fraternity was often intoned. He was a bit of a legend in the College given his illustrious career and ‘favourite son’ status.

Stories about his exploits did the rounds, many no doubt embellished. I often used to think that he also played on the same dilapidated courts as I did. These were there since the middle 1930’s, had a huge capacity to attract dust and although not of top grade, were reasonably serviceable. Indirectly, Jonah played a role in developing the sport in his old college as he did in the wider world. Having an illustrious former alumnus like Barrington, inevitably casts a positive glow. In 2011, the 75th anniversary of the Trinity College Squash Club, I almost had another chance to meet Jonah. He was invited by the organisers but unfortunately, he had to cry off in advance due to other commitments. Although it turned out to be a great night in the elegant surroundings of the College Dining Hall, it was a little like Hamlet without the Prince. Indeed, I knew a few former members of the club who decided not to come because Jonah was not going to be there! Despite this, Jonah was spoken about with great reverence on the night – his spirit was certainly hovering around proceedings that night.

Barrington has to be credited with so single-mindedly taking a minority sport out of its class-bound cobwebs and bringing it to a wider audience. By force of his personality, he inspired an interest in the game that had never been seen before. He was certainly a heroic figure to me as an 11 year old boy when I met him in that Lusaka changing room – what we would now call a ‘role model’. What’s more, he was also Irish. His physical health has not been great in recent years due to the effects of injuries sustained earlier in his career, but in his late 60’s, he surely has many years to go yet. From Avoca to Headfort to Cheltenham and Trinity College Dublin, he reached the pinnacle of international squash with a sense of commitment and determination which is the hallmark of all great sportsmen.

Latest Headlines Profile: The big noise of squash: Jonah Barrington - Owen Slot studies the qualities of a sporting legend who is keen to put officialdom in its place | The Independent Profile: The big noise of squash: Jonah Barrington - Owen Slot studies the qualities of a sporting legend who is keen to put officialdom in its place Saturday 13 August 1994 23:02 BST Click to follow The Independent Online TWENTY-ONE years after his last great triumph, Jonah Barrington, the most successful British squash player ever, can be found, for hours every day, still stalking the courts. He is now 53 and shackled by a limp, but though the body weakens, no punishment that time can mete out will ever shake his resolve, the element which won him six British Open titles. For, as he says himself, there were far more talented players around. Barrington's career was a victory for the man of limited means. He was the inspiration for many then, as he still is now for the proteges who are graced with his presence on court.

But you would have to go to Holland to see him in action, for there is no place for Barrington in the British game. There was until last December, when his five-year role as the director of excellence with the Squash Rackets Association was deemed further to requirements. What the suits who dismissed him hardly expected was his nomination, last week, to join their company as the Association's head. Barringtonwas furious when his contract was not renewed but his ambition to become SRA president is born neither of revenge, nor of an ego in need of a massage. It is pure affection for the sport that has thrown him into the fight; squash in Britain is sick and he sees it as his duty to nurse it back to health. It was he, after all, who helped it come of age. Much of Barrington's good work is still there. As a director of excellence he has taken Britain to the verge of greatness: there are at present 23 British professionals in the world's Top 50, most of them young and with the potential to improve.

What infuriated Barrington about the SRA's decision was that here was the class of the future, nurtured to excellence, scaling the heights of the world game, and just as they approach its peak, they were robbed of the mentor who had talked them through every step of the climb and left to go the distance unguided. This is no exaggeration. Barrington has worked with some of these boys since 1979 when he started running national junior squads. When funding from the SRA ceased temporarily, the squads started to live not only off his knowledge, but out of his own pocket too. Knocking around in his under-10 classes in those early days were both Peter Marshall and Simon Parke, now the top two in Britain, but both missing his influence. 'I'd like to see him now,' Parke said. 'If only to have a feeding session before the season begins. Even then his electrifying enthusiasm comes right through.' So much for the healthier side of the game.

The debit lies in the bank balance: a deficit in the last tax year of nearly pounds 100,000 thanks in part to a reduction in the Sports Council's grant, but also to the sport's credibility which has dipped so low that its national league cannot find a sponsor. Barrington was one of four SRA employees squeezed out in the resultant belt-tightening; he argues that the image crisis would best be solved by a champion or two, which is the area in which he can be most helpful. Among Barrington's less well- known achievements is a book, Murder on the Squash Court, which is not an account of his recent treatment at the hands of the SRA, but a flashback to his greatest matches. 'Murder' refers to the way he would win, not through superior skill, but through what he calls 'boxing with rackets', through stamina, relentlessly keeping the ball in play, grinding away at his opponents, waiting for their physical and mental defences to break and then going in for the kill.

As a coach, he loathes his players 'going cheap' - losing a point through going for a winner because they do not have the mental strength to extend the rally and go for the kill when appropriate. His professionalism, an eternal attempt to maximise his resources, is what he hopes will revolutionise the SRA. In the mid-Sixties, in a sport where his peers could be both cavalier and rotund yet still successful, his attitude caused its own revolution. 'I won through fitness rather than through talent,' he says, and this stemmed from an unprecedented training schedule and his infallible application to the cause. In 1966, after winning his first British Open championship, he did some press- ups and then, as the champagne was passed round, discussed his plans for Christmas training runs along his home cliffs of Morwenstow in Cornwall. Such dedication fired an unquenchable desire to win. Michael Corby, for many years No 2 to him in Britain, remembers how Barrington cried after defeat in the quarter-finals of the world championship in Australia in 1967. 'He cried because he cared so much,' Corby said.

'I used to say to him that of life's many facets, he only had one and he should lighten up. But who is to say that I was right?' Not that Barrington was ever poor company. With Corby,as they travelled the international circuit, he shared an affinity for late nights ('We used to enjoy cowboy films, let's leave it at that,' said Corby) and, with a resultant affinity for late mornings, would entertain his peers with the blasphemous variations of 'Do not disturb' he would leave on his hotel doors. But little caused them more amusement than his early exit from the BBC's Superstars competition; Barrington had paid a pounds 500 fine to leave the squash circuit and compete, but had joined them rather sooner than intended. He had been coming second until a disagreement over squat-thrust technique provoked a howling argument. The army officer detailed to count his thrusts had faulted a number of them, Barrington, his belligerence levels rising, said that if you discount one, you discount them all. On came David Vine who failed to calm the situation but instead encountered the sort of hurricane better associated with his snooker days and Barrington was on the next plane out.

'The lid came off my head,' he recalls in amusement. 'I had what I call one of my Celtic tantrums.' Barrington was entertaining, but also so headstrong and articulate that he became the mouthpiece for his fellow competitors. Aware that squash was a hidden sport, he used his prominence to change the structure of the game, setting up the professional players' association in 1973, the year he last won the British Open, and, in the eight years that he chaired it, overseeing a boom in playing numbers and sponsorship and bringing television to the court-side. His achievements have inspired benevolence as well as affection. 'In my eyes we all owe him,' says Hidayat Jahan, for some years the world No 3 behind Barrington and Geoff Hunt. 'Because of him we are making what we are making.

He has done a great job.' Little of this could have been expected of the adolescent who discovered rebellion at Cheltenham College, left Trinity College Dublin with little to show for his two years bar failed examinations and an affection for Guinness (he was accused of being 'infrequently sober') and who, in the next four years, drifted through a number of jobs and picked up a petty larceny conviction when he and a friend were caught trundling 'borrowed' wheelbarrows down Earl's Court Road. Certainly his acolytes pushing to fill his shoes would not be allowed to follow such an agenda; from them he demands the commitment and professionalism that have marked all his post-Earl's Court years. Among them, his coaching catchphrase, 'Squeeze', has become something of a joke. It means that Barrington wants tighter ball positioning, but also that he is demanding that every last iota of energy is plundered. What he achieves are undying loyalty - players still ring him even though they are no longer under his wing - and motivation.

After Parke had won a match in his first world championships, in Singapore in 1989, there was no commendation from Barrington and instead he was left with a flea in his ear for missing his first match point. Parke thought this harsh treatment but, with hindsight, believes he learnt a good lesson - Barrington felt he had gone cheap. It is these motivational powers, if none other, that Barrington knows he can bring to the SRA. As a figurehead and public relations man, let alone as a coach, many believe it is wasteful to leave him out in the cold. After all, it was a group from within the SRA itself that approached him and asked him to stand. Against him will stand the present incumbent, Sir Michael Edwardes, the former British Leyland head, and though the disputed presidency is an unpaid role, Barrington is still determined. Again, it is his affection for the game that guides him. 'The game's been very good to me, it's given me a fantastic life.' At present, his fantastic life continuing abroad, he talks about the presidency with some inevitability, 'I believe the time has come,' he says.

If it does, he will be 'a very very active president' and, you can be sure, he'll squeeze the most out of his term in office. - Mad About Squash Mad About Squash Pinterest0 A very warm welcome to the Mad About Squash website. Having played this fabulous game for many years – (more years than I care to think about) – and still finding the game just as addictive now as when I first started playing – I decided to put a web site together to share information and resources relating to this fabulous sport. Squash is an excellent sport. It’s fast paced and highly energetic but it’s also very strategic too. In fact it’s often referred to as 100MPH chess! (Photo Credit: Artform Canada) And because you are so close to your opponent during play it feels like a real battle, which is why I like the famous quote by Jonah Barrington so much… “Squash is boxing with racquets.” Squash is also a great way to make many friends as its a very social game with most players retiring to the bar for a drink straight after their match. Name Dropping!

Occasional I may even include some expert information on this site as I am good friends with David Heath who was a top one-hundred ranked men’s player. And I’m also friends with Hollie Naughton who is currently a top one-hundred ranked ladies player. David Heath playing a smash shot! Join the discussion... Barrington - The Prophet Revived - Professional Squash Association Barrington - The Prophet Revived Share this on News Jonah Barrington started the ball rolling. More accurately, he started the money rolling – a pioneer, a visionary, a force of nature, Barrington is the man responsible for professional squash – and today he turns 75. On his birthday we delve into the archives and look back at the life of the man who transformed the face of squash forever with his swash-buckling moustache and charisma. When squash’s first full-time player took a plunge into the unknown in 1969, he became a lonely prophet of a sport with no circuit, no television, no World Championship, and no obvious pathway forward.

That is the piece of history for which Barrington should perhaps be remembered most, maybe even more than for the ground- breaking capture of six British Open titles in the late sixties and early seventies, an achievement which generated publicity for squash like never before. While titles are often used as a yardstick for measuring the greatness of an athlete it was Barrington's philosophy, tenacity, charisma and role as the ubiquitous pioneer of squash that makes his legacy so special. Barrington brought about the birth of professionalism. He did it as much by force of character as by the force of his squash. Although he was also an extraordinary player, it was as a driven pioneer, a passionate talker, and an inspiring visionary that he arguably achieved more. Having reached the pinnacle of the game in the late 60’s and early 70’s, he embarked on a planet-circling sequence of clinics, tours, and exhibitions which laid the foundations for a world circuit which now has over 200 events across every continent, while the Professional Squash Association – the modern equilivent of the players association originally founded by Barrington, have over 700 members. Barrington was a star almost wherever he went.

He was refreshingly forthright, a magnetic story-teller, a great humorist, and an incisive commentator. He loved words and ideas, he was chatty, he delivered great quotes, he had radically new ideas about the game, and he was unafraid to be controversial. He was even prepared, he once said, to run naked around Birmingham’s Bull Ring if needed to get squash publicity it deserved. Barrington (L) takes on Geoff Hunt (R) Barrington often talked about creating a World Championship, which duly came about in 1976, though by then he was a little too old to have a chance of winning it. But by capturing six British Open titles within seven seasons, he had come to be described as the de facto World Champion. It happened because he was imaginatively tenacious and gave a far higher importance to winning than many Britons did at that time. He became a world-beater in an era when the founding country of squash did not have so many of them. At that time he was not a universally liked character. He could satirise the squash establishment. If he was losing he could satirise himself. “Pommie bastard,” he would occasionally say.

He could also be self-punishing, unrelenting, and harshly self-critical. Geoff Hunt, who’s career was moulded by his rivalry with Barrington, tells tales of watching with awe as Barrington stormed out of court following one particular defeat and spent almost two hours running laps on a nearby running-track as punishment for his performance. But that was partly because for him time was unusually short. Barrington did not make it all happen until it seemed it might be too late. He seemed for a long time to be no more than an averagely promising young player who probably would not fulfil that promise. But then, at around the age of 23 a catharsis took place. The university drop-out, the one-time deadbeat, and the frequent drinker realised that a sense of failure could be agonising and could last a lifetime. He began to make something of himself – something bigger than anyone could have imagined. He was helped by someone with a famous name. Nasrullah Khan, an uncle of Jahangir Khan and a legendary coach at the Edgbaston Priory Club in Birmingham, provided a quiet, methodical tutelage which helped the complete transformation of a dissipated life into an ascetic one.

Barrington also sought help from Azam Khan, the four times British Open champion from Pakistan who had once beaten him for the loss of only two points and whom some thought had hitherto been the greatest player of all. With these, and later with the help of Bomber Harris, his trainer, Barrington committed himself to a ferociously strict regimen – initially perhaps as mental therapy for his earlier drift, and then to develop a capacity for lasting long matches better than anyone. Against considerably long odds, he did that. His approach to training and self-imprvemnet were legendary. One of the most commonly used techniques in squash today, ‘Ghosting’, started with Barrington, and tales abound of the man himself performing magnificently high volumes of the exercise in his underpants in the back garden of his Cornwall home. Son Joey, now SquashTV’s lead commentator recalls with a great smile when, on a family holiday, Barrington constructed his own court on a sandy beach in South Africa as hundreds of fascinated onlookers watch in awe as Joey says ‘a crazy man ran around playing invisible squash against himself’.

But Barrington’s first British Open title, at Abbeydale in Sheffield in January 1969, though a joyous triumph, had a sombre tinge. Barrington had allowed himself to be convinced by his Irish father into playing for Ireland, rather than England, for which he was also qualified. From Major Charles Barrington also came Jonah’s love of history and of reading, and eventually perhaps his discipline too. But the father died just one month short of seeing his son became the first home player to win the British Open since before World War Two. The charismatic man minus moustache Barrington was 25 when he made this astonishing break-through. He was already 26 by the time he made his first trip to Australia. Lost time had to be made up, both by dramatically increasing his efforts and embracing new ideas. The depth of Barrington’s analysis, and especially of the physical effects of the game, on his ability to recover and on the mind of his opponents, made him a harbinger of sports science in squash. Some regarded him as a fanatic. But what he did was not merely very intense but well directed and thought out, so that remarkable outcomes followed. He helped change how the game was played – at all levels.

Barrington would often hit the ball little or no lower than the cut line for long periods. It helped create a consistently pressuring length whilst avoiding error. Clingers, lobs, and accurate lines might be punctuated by the occasional angle or a skilfully tight backhand drop. But these were usually only risked when the opponent was pinned back or starting to tire. He volleyed only rarely, preferring to take the ball off the back wall. Consistency was key. The unreliable shots of his youth – a period when, he realised, he had only played “at” the game – were abandoned. Barrington sometimes suggested that there were simultaneous counts during a match – the points score and the energy levels. Which was most in influencing the outcome was not always evident. Once he lost the first game in a British Open final by 0-9 (to Geoff Hunt) but still lasted well enough to win. Barrington’s very physical and radical approach influenced Hunt, a player who was well built and well placed to take advantage of it.

One of the very finest athletes ever to play professional squash, the Australian also embarked on new and more rigorous training methods, and adopted a similarly more disciplined style – all with the end goal of defeating Barrington in mind. Though Hunt had more weapons Barrington was able to create a mixture of physical and psychological pressure in the atmosphere of what was then the world’s greatest tournament. It helped him win two finals against an opponent who eventually triumphed in eight. The one which perhaps best highlighted Barrington’s delayed-effect strategies was a 115-minute struggle at Abbeydale in 1972. This was the famous 0–9, 9–7, 10–8, 6–9, 9–7 victory. Hunt not only whitewashed the first game, but led 3-0 in the second too, and advanced to 6-0 and 7-4 in the fifth. Yet he still couldn’t cross the finish line first. “The beginning was very difficult because I was not able to secure a point for in excess of 30 minutes,” says Barrington. “It was very difficult psychologically at that stage because I don’t think he had made one unforced error.

Everything was in perfect order and he was pretty awesome – so smooth and so balanced. “I said to myself, just keep working to get one point because often what happens is that once there is a breakthrough it serves to gain momentum – and that’s exactly what happened.” Barrington won another, even longer tussle in the December 1969 final at Edgbaston. The score was 9-7, 3-9, 3-9, 9-4, 9-4, the duration two hours and 13 minutes, and the contest perhaps his most physically demanding. of all. These days Barrington has a more amusing take on this grimly mesmerising encounter, recalling that his bank manager had been invited to the match. Unfortunately for the invitee, Edgbaston Priory’s main court had a rather shallow gallery in those days, allowing only those in the front two rows to see the ball’s path right through to the back wall. For almost everyone else the last four feet of its trajectory were invisible. This was precisely the area, of course, into which most of Barrington’s drives were projected.

“For large parts of the match he was really only able to tell who had struck the ball by the sound!” Barrington recalls with his wonderfully crazy laugh. “Naz identified that it was important not to work Geoff short willy-nilly, which I never did because of his mobility. Rule was, when I was behind him, take him back and work him mentally, and hope to break him that way. “That’s how the match developed. And this poor sod watching was from my home town (Morwenstow in Cornwall) and he had travelled all the way up to Birmingham. It was not an easy journey in those days. And he scarcely saw a ball!!!” Cue more mad chuckles. Two years after Barrington turned pro, Hunt and another great Australian, Kenny Hiscoe, followed. The two compatriots then did much of the donkey work in taking the squash mission to some distant, unlikely places. A year later pioneer number four joined them. He was Gogi Alauddin, a fascinatingly original Pakistani who spun gentle and aesthetically pleasing but deadly webs with a squash ball. Together they became the first touring exhibition quartet.

Barrington also invited Hunt to a 15-match series, which, by winning 13-2, the Australian indicated that he was the better player in circumstances which were normal. On big occasions however they sometimes weren’t. Despite the series’ relative anti-climax it showed there was a future for such things. Barrington also performed clinics, full of banter and pedagogy, which were charismatic forerunners of what has become commonplace today. Later he went on a tour of the Far and Middle East with two Pakistanis, an Egyptian and an Australian – Aftab Jawaid, Sharif Khan, Abou Taleb, and Rainer Ratinac – helping to popularise squash where there had been little knowledge of the game. Back home Barrington took an elitist game and showed ordinary players that they too could improve greatly and reach a high level if they worked hard off court as well as on it. This insight spread to all levels of squash and helped fuel the yuppie squash boom of the 1980’s. Barrington was able to influence all this because he had a special way with him.

If his road to fulfilment appeared to some people as spartan or a little obsessive, he would often leaven it with a nice sense of the ridiculous. He would tell stories against himself. In his younger days he had “borrowed” a wheelbarrow for an impromptu go-kart race down Earls Court Road, which led to plenty of giggles and an appearance in court. He would laugh at tales about clubs with impractically strict dress regulations. Once a well-known player had entered one of these august establishments without wearing a tie. The ensuing race to the changing rooms with the doorman resulted in victory for the player, but also in his club membership being blocked the following year. A dramatic re-appearance the year after that saw him dressed in an immaculate tie, made of silk – and worn on court. Another club, with a steep gallery behind its centre court, forbade ladies’ trouser suits. There always seemed to be an unusually large number of let appeals, players’ eyes running across rows of stockings and bare legs before locating the referee. By the mid-seventies Barrington had lost a little pace from a standing start.

Though this prevented him winning the Open again, he remained among the world’s top ten untill he was almost 40, and even won the British national title when he was 39. Thence Barrington became the President of the (English) Squash Rackets Association, the coach to the England team for several years, and a coach for many leading players. Recently these have included World No.1 Mohammed Elshorbagy, whom he describes as “the best youngster I have been involved with for 20 years”. His greatest praise goes to the leading players of the past five years, a multi-national group with a fascinating variety of styles, personalities, and rivalries which has produced a stream of high-drama, photogenic matches. “This group of players has done everything in its power to show squash at its very best,” concluded Barrington, who is not one to offer praise as tinsel. “It’s not just about technology and presentation. The players have got to deliver. And in the men’s game the delivery has been absolutely fantastic, considering the way they beat the s…. out of each other,” he concludes.

Thus Barrington still charts the progress of a sport which helped shaped his life, and which in return he has done so much to shape. The great coach is still an influence. The great raconteur still purveys colourful words. Barrington may not be seen on the tour as much as players and supporters alike wish, but his presence is always felt around the tournaments given he has played a significant role in the careers and lives of generations of players. He is, and will always remain a true icon of the game. The great pioneer is still with us. And still crazy after all these years. England great Jonah Barrington hailed by Egypt's Mohamed El Shorbagy - Telegraph Squash England great Jonah Barrington hailed by Egypt's Mohamed El Shorbagy Mohammad El Shorbagy, the rising star of Egyptian squash, has praised six-time British Open champion Jonah Barrington for his rise to the top ranks of the sport.

Rising star: Egypt's Mohamed El Shorbagy (left) could yet become the youngest World Series Finals champion Photo: SQUASHPICS.COM By Rod Gilmour 12:00PM GMT 03 Dec 2009 The 18 year-old Alexandrian emulated compatriot Ramy Ashour by becoming only the second player to lift the world junior championships twice in August. And his achievements were recognised last weekend in London when El Shorbagy picked up the PSA Young Player of the Year award. Two days later he reclaimed a world top 20 spot and remains the youngest amongst the elite players. Shorbagy, who first came to prominence after reaching the 2008 World Open quarter-finals, said: "I went to Millfield School [in Somerset] at 15 and have been with Jonah for nearly four years. "He has given me loads of experience in squash. I still go to him and am always learning something new. "He knows how to get me back again after a loss and prepare me for a match. He just has been really great in my life." Related Articles WHERE ARE THEY NOW? Jonah Barrington | The Independent WHERE ARE THEY NOW?

Jonah Barrington Tuesday 23 January 1996 00:02 BST Click to follow The Independent Online The decline in popularity of squash has been witnessed by this month's national championships, which passed by with barely a flicker of public interest. Hence the decision of the Squash Rackets Association to charge Jonah Barrington, six times British Open champion and long-time scourge of the game's establishment, with reviving it. SRA president since 1994, he became a paid consultant on 1 January. "Attitudes have to change," he said. "The sport has to break away from a lot of its traditions and there must no longer be even a sniff of snobbery." Barrington set his sights on professional sport, despite being told it carried no status. "If I had realised my dream, I would have played football for Chelsea," he said. "Instead, circumstances brought me into squash, which I found suited my nature." He turned professional in 1969, and through his winnings, endorsements, coaching and exhibitions, became the first man to earn a full living from the game. Today he is also a consultant to the Dutch federation and coaches part-time at Millfield School.

Now 54, he lives in Glastonbury with his wife, Madeline. They have two sons. He still "trains obsessively" but a snapped Achilles tendon has curtailed his playing. "With each year that passes, the age group I can deal with gets younger," he said. "I'm only really good for under-10s now." Jon Culley YouGov | What the world thinks | Jonah Barrington (Sports Personality) Type Sports Personality Jonah Barrington (born 29 April 1941) is a retired squash player (from Morwenstow, Cornwall) who is widely considered to be one of the greatest squash players of all time. An English-born Irishman, Ba (...) read full article at Wikipedia Which rating would you choose for Jonah Barrington? Ratings About Fans of Jonah Barrington ? Squash Player Magazine — Squash Player Hall of Fame: Jonah Barrington Squash Player Hall of Fame: Jonah Barrington More than four decades after he last became champion, his recorded voice was used to preview each day’s play at last year’s British Open. “This was the one that everybody came for and everybody wanted to win,” was all he said.

The speaker’s name was not even mentioned, but it did not need to be, because most spectators knew immediately it was Jonah Barrington. How many sportsmen’s voices carry that aura? Muhammad Ali’s probably. David Beckham’s conceivably. Not many others. And how many other squash players? None. But the unique power of Barrington’s voice – derived from his six British Open titles and his pioneering in the 60s and 70s which dragged squash towards the modern era – had a hair-raising effect for its electrifying enthusiasm. Squash for Barrington was more than just a sport; it had been a means of survival. You could feel it. The young Barrington had been without aims and without means. He drank, he drifted, he dropped out of university and he became plagued by failure and self-criticism. How he turned his life around is more than just a well-known story. With 750,000 young people today unemployed, it has renewed relevance and is once again an inspiration. Barrington did it by creating clear goals and firm discipline, and by using an analytical and humorous mind.

He embraced a recreational game and turned it into something more potent with the brilliantly original use of fitness and tactics. In the process he also transformed himself, reciprocally developing his physical routines and his mental strength. Not long after finding this life-changing purpose, Barrington was beaten for the loss of only two points by Azam Khan, then the world’s best player. However, by 1967, with the help of Nasrullah Khan, his famously strict Pakistani coach who himself was a top player, the Anglo-Irishman had won the British Open for the first time. Soon, though, he had an almost impossibly formidable rival in Geoff Hunt, who was both a better shot-maker and a better athlete. The great Australian eventually became the most durable top-level player of all time and it often looked impossible for Barrington to beat him. However, he devised cunningly guileful and ferociously disciplined methods that gave him a slight chance on high-pressure occasions. Though Hunt won eight British Opens, he was twice beaten in finals by Barrington - notably in 1972, when the home hope failed to win any points in the first game or the first three points of the second, yet still prevailed.

Barrington had incredible stamina, a court presence and a strong mind. He reckoned he could sometimes create two different scorelines in tough matches – the points tally and the energy count. He would rarely strike the ball low above the tin, aiming instead near or above the cut line, which brought very few errors and very long rallies. He hit to a length and rarely risked volleys. He tried to make the ball cling. Drops were introduced only gradually and were increased in frequency only during the later stages if his opponent was flagging. Barrington thus revolutionised ideas about what the body and mind could do, and continued to explore the frontiers of what was possible. He was an early exponent of sports science and sports psychology, and altered how people approached squash, not only professionally, but at all levels of the game. He then took an even bigger plunge into the unknown in 1969 by becoming the first full-time squash player, accelerating worldwide professionalism in a sport with no world championship, no television and no clear path forward.

He embarked on a planet-circling sequence of clinics, tours and exhibitions, helping to lay the foundations, along with Hunt and fellow Aussie Kenny Hiscoe, for an International Squash Players Association in 1973 and a fledgling circuit. Barrington was a star wherever he went. He was refreshingly forthright, a magnetic raconteur and an incisive commentator. He was unafraid to be controversial. Occasionally he might over-react, but was mostly honest about his excesses. “The lid came off my head,” he once recalled in semi-amusement. “I had what I call one of my Celtic tantrums.” Consequently, he generated publicity like no one before or since. Though he was indeed an extraordinary player, it was as a passionate talker and a spellbinding visionary that he achieved more. Despite his 74 years and recent illness, these abilities still contribute to the modern game. They are evident in his coaching of Mohamed Elshorbagy, the Bristol-based world no.1from Egypt, with whom he can now communicate in absentia thanks to the joys of Squash TV and mobile phones.

So though Barrington will not be at the 2015 British Open and may not be heard this time either, it is not just a historical influence which will infiltrate matches. He can still influence their outcome. Richard Eaton Jonah 07 new era for the British Open Richard Eaton reports in International Squash Magazine We may have found a cure for Jonah Barrington's depression. Those who have heard the world record raconteur and six times former British Open Champion still spouting forth might be surprised that he needed one ... But imagine if someone had said to Pete Sampras that Wimbledon was no longer one of the greatest events and might not be staged, or that Lester Piggott thought there would be no Derby. That's roughly equivalent to what Jonah has experienced in recent times, during which the world famous tournament with which he was once synonymous seemed on its way to the dump. "I became pretty despondent because I felt it had almost reached the stage where the best players were choosing whether to play or not on the basis of what kind of ranking points it would give," said the six times British Open Champion.

The point about this, of course, is that for much of its seventy-five years the British Open had been the tournament around which every decent player based his or her schedule, and created squash-transcending legends. But somehow the olde tourney was kept alive, then it was made fit and mobile again, and now it is carrying some of its old status forward to what may well be new and different glories. The man who has achieved this is Paul Walters, the neatly ubiquitous founder of internationalSPORTgroupï¿½, which kept the British Open going during the last two difficult years, brought it to familiar surroundings in Manchester this year, and signed an uplifting five-year deal from next year until 2012. With support from title sponsor Dunlop, alongside UK Sport, the Northwest Regional Development Agency and Manchester City Council, Walters has made the British Open a fixture in the Men's Super Series, committing the tournament to a record prize money total of $120,100, with likely annual increases. This is vigorous movement for what was considered a corpse.

The men's prize fund has risen from $40,000 in 2005 to $77,500 this year, making it a Super Series silver event; the women's event, which was $31,000 two years ago, is now $42,500, and a Gold 35 level event. This had Barrington pouring passion again. But we'll ask him to hold his breath for a moment longer. Because the new British Open will be different from the old. It will move: every other year it will be at the National Centre in Manchester, but in between it goes to another city. This year Manchester, a nice taster for the 2008 World Open; next year Liverpool, as part of the city's European City of Culture; in 2009 Manchester, in 2010 Birmingham, in 2011 at Manchester again, and in 2012 somewhere else. "Paul has to be commended for the holding action because it must have been very difficult for him; but to take this on board and perform an upgrade in such a short time is terrific," Barrington enthused.

"There are signs that we are returning to the days when there was a genuine pro circuit in the UK and hopefully that will act as a promotional springboard and give great incentive for more and more youngsters to be involved. "Suddenly we are talking about our sport becoming fashionable again, which is amazing. So many aspects of life changed in the eighties. Squash fell foul of the demands of different fashions. "But I find it fascinating, because actually, while living in the doldrums, we had our best group of players ever, followed by four or five others, who are now in their prime period." "And yet during that period there were so many aspects of the sport which were not just stagnating, but fading. Now there's real optimism about potential recovery. "The British Open should be the ultimate ambition for every young squash player, and I do tandem it with the World Open because it is the height of the professional game." The British Open was certainly that when Barrington won it for a third time at the Edgbaston Priory Club at Birmingham in 1969, beating Geoff Hunt in a match which lasted fully two hours and 13 minutes.

In those days the event was important enough for Barrington to become a national hero, though the final was so exhausting it was one of the few occasions when he was hardly able to speak. Maybe this is why he recalls surprisingly little of this dramatic occasion. "I remember it was a match which my bank manager came to watch," he said, breaking into that generous, slightly manic, laugh of his. "And he was put at the top rake of seats for large parts of the match and was unable to see anything of the game because of the amount of length hitting." (More laughter) "He was really only able to tell who had struck the ball by the sound! Geoff's had a violence to it like a pistol shot whereas mine was more varied because no sense at taking him on at what he did so brilliantly and at pace. "Nazrullah (Khan, Jonah's coach) had identified it was most important not to work Geoff short willy-nilly, which I never did against him because of his mobility. Rule was when I was behind him, to take him back and work him mentally and hope to break him that way. "And essentially that's the way the match developed. And this poor sod watchingï¿½.

He was from my home town and travelled all the way up to Birmingham, which was not an easy journey in those days. And he scarcely saw a ball!!!" (climactic laughter). When Barrington beat Hunt again in the 1972, at Abbeydale in Sheffield, it was his fifth and penultimate British Open triumph and arguably the most amazing final ever. It was more than half an hour before Barrington could win a point, and by the time he did he was 0-9 0-2 down. Yet Barrington still won because, despite the frightening deficit, he was ahead on the other count ï¿½ who had more fuel in the tank. "But it was very difficult psychologically because at that stage I don't think he had made one unforced error," he said. "When everything was in order Geoff was pretty awesome ï¿½ so smooth and so balanced and I just said to myself 'just keep working to get one point' because very often what happens is that once there is a breakthrough it serves to gain momentum - and that's what happened. "But at no stage did I dominate the match.

I went two games to one up but I had a physical problem in the fourth ï¿½ I think it's called ventricular tachycardia. "I had no idea at the time what the consequences were but I have since been told that I would have collapsed before anything drastic happened. But during the period when this took place it was difficult to keep any kind of squash activity going. And he took over and then he was very dominant. "But at 6-0 to Geoff in the final game my system cleared and then I felt I was reborn, and at that moment he started to have problems with cramp. And I took over. It was obviously, as always with him, whatever matches, very long. It was very exhausting mentally." But then Barrington's battles were often great triumphs of will, very personal triumphs. They established him not only as one of the great squash players of all time, but as one of the Britain's great sportsmen. He became the only celebrity squash player Britain has ever had. Every squash player in this country should now have a chance of forging a connection to this legend. That's because a new and extensive prequalifying competition offers anyone the chance to battle through to the main draw.

There will be other widening connections to the British Open. Age groups and Masters events are a growing part of the great week, and build-up events at Birmingham, the English Grand Prix, and Wolverhampton may be fore-runners to a reborn British professional circuit. Another who appreciates all that's happening is the last Briton to win the British Open, Peter Nicol. "I think Paul has done a fabulous job," said Peter Nicol, the champion in 1998 and 2002. "The British Open still has something wonderful about it. Give it two or three years and it will be the most important event in the world again." From a rival promoter, the words are generous as well as believable. But the last words should be those of the man who did more for the British Open than anyone. "It wasn't that I had fallen out of love with the game but I did feel quite depressed because I thought the British Open was going to slide away into obscurity," Barrington repeated, making it feel as urgent as if he had just uttered it for the first time.

"But now I am very interested in the pro game again." Jonah Barrington’s heir deserving of greater recognition – Sports Journalists' Association | admin #SJA2011: Telegraph sportswriter ROD GILMOUR makes the case for Nick Matthew, the world No1 squash player, to get your vote Since the halcyon days of the Khan dynasty and the titles won by Peter Nicol, world-class squash players have craved a return to the big stage and the column inches the sport once merited. Like a cold yellow dot on a damp court, regular paper coverage has all but died with pagination cuts, save for the odd colour piece. Squash’s cause has also been hampered by the International Olympic Committee, who have twice denied the sport inclusion to the Games. Nick Matthew, the squash world No1 whose "incredible achievements" have been lauded by all-time great Jonah Barrington So, forgive me if I surmise my contender’s achievements for one minute. The name at the top of the world squash tree is Yorkshire’s Nick Matthew, who must surely rank as one of Britain’s finest-ever rackets players alongside Nicol and the 1970s great, Jonah Barrington.

Matthew’s dream was realised in June last year when he became the first Englishman since Lee Beachill in 2004 to reach world No1. He then took home Commonwealth Games gold in Delhi. In December in Saudi Arabia, Matthew became the first English-born winner of the World Open. In those two finals, he beat fellow Englishman James Willstrop. In 2011, Matthew has contested every world tour final going (that is 10 and counting). That’s remarkable consistency. Then again, he has won 15 out of 27 tournaments since last January. All that in a sport where it’s harder to reach the multiple heights of Jahangir (555 matches unbeaten and all that) and Jansher Khan, mainly because squash is now point-a-rally to 11. It’s frenetic stuff and great to watch live too, but Matthew’s fitness – forged in Sheffield’s English Institute of Sport – and patience-building rallies keep doing the trick. He’s continually quelling the threats of the Aussies, French and Egyptians, his main rivals. Moreover, he’s got as much grit as the Brownlee brothers, his Yorkshire compatriots.

One EIS physio, a former marathon runner, will also tell you that the workload of a squash player is probably harder than any other sportsman. When you factor in that Matthew has played back-to-back matches nearing two hours over the last 12 months, that’s some feat. It’s little wonder that Barrington told me that Britain should sit up and take notice of his “incredible achievements” on court. And Matthew’s doing it in front of growing crowds across the globe, unbeknown to most of the British public. Surely it’s time for a change? Every so often, along comes someone who gets people talking. A player who creates a thrill, that added spark in a crowd. In squash, that someone is Egypt’s Ramy Ashour. The way he puts the racket through the ball and his shot-making skills are jaw-droppingly electrifying. Yet, Matthew is still world No1 despite Ashour’s continued brilliance. The test will come at the end of the month when the pair – Ashour is world No2 – are seeded to meet in the World Open final in Rotterdam. It should be some spectacle.

Question: Jonah Barrington is famous for which sport?
Answer: Squash